


The truth or dare affair

by HollyMcCoy



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Feels, First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyMcCoy/pseuds/HollyMcCoy
Summary: At the UNCLE Christmas party, somebody makes a crude joke and Napoleon snaps. First time.





	The truth or dare affair

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this with the original characters in mind, but I guess it can be read either way.

When we arrived at the conference room, the office Christmas party was well under way. Illya and I had been late coming in from a mission. Thankfully, while tired, neither of us was injured serious enough to warrant a trip to medical. A bit of eggnog, possibly spiked, and some Christmas cheer were all we needed, tonight. By the level of noise and the extremely relaxed air, it was clear that alcohol had flown freely already and we perked up. Law enforcement hardly ever got to let its hair down, so everyone was making the most of the opportunity. We said Hi to a few people and got us some eggnog from the side table, which was indeed spiked. Illya spotted Mark and April among a few other fellow agents and we went other to them. The group lounged on a set of armchairs and couches and seemed to be having a great time. Everyone was intently watching Mark. He pulled something from his mouth with a triumphant grin and the men and women around him exploded into cheers. Illya and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows, shrugged and went over to them. We were warmly greeted and people scooted over to make room for us. I ended up sitting on the floor, across from my partner.

“What was that about?”, I asked the group curiously.

“Mark just won a dare!”, April informed us gleefully.

Ah, truth or dare, the go to drinking game for the sophisticated spy. No wonder spirits were so high. I idly wondered how fast I could get drunk enough for this. Keeping secrets is so engrained in our personalities, that giving some up, would need a good deal of lubrication.

“Come on, usual rules. What do you say?”, asked Rick Ona, one of our younger section two agents invitingly.

My partner looked at me with an indulgent smile and I shrugged my amused agreement. It was obvious our colleagues had quite a head start on the alcohol, but we were game to catch up. It was an innocent game, what could be the harm in playing a few rounds? The game went around the group a few times, before Illya won a dare by dissembling and reassembling his gun in under a minute. Everyone cheered and I clapped along in congratulation, while rolling my eyes in amusement at him. I happened to know, he could do it in 47 seconds - while blindfolded. He turned to me with an easy smile in his eyes and asked: “Truth or dare?”.

I went with truth and his smile spread to his mouth and threatened to turn into a grin, as he asked: “What are you getting me for Christmas?”.

“Oh, come on!”, I waved him off, “You know I won’t tell you that!”.

I had been making more and more outrageous promises for the upcoming season and at this point everything, that I could get my serious partner, would fall short of them. I knew he would smile happily at whatever he unwrapped and thank me graciously. Then he would hand me either the most thoughtful gift he could come up with or some trite cliché. There seemed to be no middle ground with my Illya Kuryakin.

The corner of his mouth was definitely raised to a smirk now: “Dare then. Hm…”.

He looked around the room, searching for a suitably embarrassing task. His eyes lit up when he saw one of the younger agents play with a rubix cube. He motioned for the young man to hand it over. He twisted the half-solved cube around until there was just a chaotic pattern left. He grinned openly at me now: “Solve this in less than five minutes!”.

I laughed at him and he threw me the toy. I managed to solve to upper layer without much difficulty and managed the T shape, as he had shown me. I even got the second layer, but then I was stumped. Our fellow agents had started to call out the time and were shouting out suggestions to me. I tried again and again, but only managed to mess up the whole cube again. When Mark shouted: “Time!”, I put the botched cube down with a rueful smile.

I grinned at Illya and admitted: “I guess I owe you a beer”.

He nodded at me happily and leaned back with a self-satisfied expression.

April looked between us in mock confusion and exclaimed: “The stake is not a beer! “.

Our colleagues looked at our alarmed expressions with unconcealed glee. I had the distinct feeling, that we had somehow walked right into a practical joke. Knowing what my fellow got up to and what they considered fun, this did not bode well for us.

Illya narrowed his eyes and asked: “Dare I ask, what it _is_ the stake?”

April nodded happily and announced: “Oral!”.

We looked at each other and then at her with a horrified expression. Mark slapped his knees with mirth and chuckled: “Oh, come on now! I lost to young Henry over here and you did not see me make such a fuss about it!”.

I turned my head to look at Mark in horror and he only laughed harder.

I tried to clarify in a dismayed voice: “You want _me_ to give a _blow job_? To _Illya_? _Here_?”

“Well, I used my office, but to each their own, I guess. And I don’t want you to, but Illya sure does! Right mate?”.

They must be far drunker than I had thought. Mark slapped Illya on the shoulder, doing nothing to change the look on my partners face. The Russian looked ready to murder the next person to open his mouth. Our colleagues nearest to him, seemed to realise something was wrong as they looked at him.  It dawned on them, that their joke might have been not as funny, as they thought. They fell silent and looked decidedly uncomfortable. Illya could have that effect on people. Wanting to prevent blood shed, I got up and hastily grabbed him by the arm. He let himself be dragged up and I cautioned the group over my shoulder: “Don’t do anything you’ll regret in the morning!”.

I threw a cheerful wave over my shoulder and manhandled Illya towards the door. A few cat-calls and explicit encouragements followed us and I felt the muscles under my hands tense even further. After a final push against Illya’s back, we were finally through the door. The sudden silence was very loud in my ears. Illya took a deep breath, no doubt to calm him down and then said in a very level voice: “We should get our coats”.

I fell into step beside him, lost in thought. When we arrived at our office, he went in before me and I stopped right inside the doorway. The door closed behind me and we were alone. In a voice that sounded far off, even to my own ears, I swallowed and stepped off the cliff: “I owe you a blowjob”.

The Russian turned around slowly with, what I recognised as faked nonchalance, and answered easily: “Oh? You can just buy me a beer”.

There was no way back for me, now. I had made an offer and I would stick with it. At the very least, I would let Illya know, how I felt about him. I shook my head: “That wasn’t the stake”.

He shrugged a bit to casually: “You can have a do over. I will show you how to, again and you can have another try”.

Ah, partner mine. Always so polite, careful to hide behind semantics and so-called cultural misunderstandings. But I knew him. He was either horrified at my offer or uncertain of my intend. He had started to sweat and I shook my head defiantly: “Not the rules. I refused truth, I lost the dare, so now I have to pay up”.

He swallowed convulsively and asked in a suddenly hoarse voice: “You really want to do this?”.

I forced myself to look him squarely in the eyes and nodded. He stared at me for almost a full minute and then seemingly gave in: “Very well. But nor here”.

We looked around the utilitarian office together. The metal desks and the stark fluorescent light were rather off putting. I nodded and after a last searching look at me, Illya turned back to put his coat on and then handed me mine. We went down to the garage and I got behind the steering wheel. When Illya had fastened his seat belt, I started the motor and carefully drove us to my apartment. We did not speak on the way there, nor as we awkwardly stood in front of the elevator. I pressed the button for my floor and raised my eyebrows at him. He said nothing, but just looked at me without expression. Even after all those years I could not read him, when he did not want me to.

When we were finally standing in my living room and I had set the alarms, I turned to the man I trusted with my life, not knowing what to say. I still could not read him and I did not know what to do. He sighed and came over to stand right in front of me. And just like that, he was letting me see his emotions again. He was just as scarred as I was, but there was lust there as well. And a gentleness held in cheek, that gave me the hope, that I was making the right decision. In an earnest voice, he offered: “It is just a game. You do not have to do this, if you do not want to”.

Smiling with more bravery than I felt and showing him more honesty than was probably wise, I shook my head: “I want to”.

I was rewarded with his pupils growing wider and seeing his pulse jump at the base of his neck. He nodded jerkily and motioned to the bathroom: “I will be right back”.

I watched him go and went to the kitchen for some liquid courage. I swallowed a shot of vodka that was about as smooth as paint thinner and after a moment’s hesitation poured Illya a shot as well. I prayed that I had made the right decision in calling my partner out on the never spoken off tension between us. It had been there, almost from the beginning, but by silent agreement we ignored it. The working relationship we had, was much too good, to risk. From the very first mission, that should have left us dead, we worked together like one mind in two bodies. That was the thing with partners – you either clicked or you didn’t. We did. I could work with other agents and so did Illya. It just was never the same trust… or feeling of sureness that the other would be there. So, despite being drawn to each other, we went on with our lives. I distracted myself with women, who never meant anything and whose names I had forgotten the moment they left my bed. Illya worked his frustration out in the gym and the shooting range, as far as I knew. It was nothing he discussed. But in the last few months, I had been unable to carry on as I had before. Whenever I wedeled a phone number out of some pretty blonde, whenever I took one of them to bed, I thought about my partner. I had reason to believe, that what I was doing was hurting him. But I was never sure. He must think, he had no right to complain, so he didn’t. I just could not do this anymore. If Illya refused me, now or in the morning or in a year, I would not go back to it. In fact, I had not been on a date for months. _Months_. The great Napoleon Solo, brought low by love. When April and Mark had made their crude joke, something in me had snapped. I picked up Illya’s glass and left the kitchen.

When I came back to the living room my bedroom door stood open. I wandered over and saw Illya sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked up from his intense study of my rug, as he heard me in the hallway. The desire I saw, when our eyes locked, gave me the confidence to keep walking.

I went over to him silently and handed him his drink. Without taking his eyes off me, he swallowed down the liquor and put the glass on the bedside table blindly. He looked at me with expectant trepidation. I willed myself to remember, that he must want this, or he would never have permitted himself to come here. Whether he thought this was an act borne from curiosity or if he understood, I was more emotional involved, I dared not ask. Not now, at least.

 

I watched him, as I sank down on my knees before him. I felt my lips quirk with wry amusement at myself: here I was, offering willingly to my partner, what I had decked other man for just suggesting. Illya’s breaths came faster than usual and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. He was watching me intently, his hands fisted in the bedcover. It was clear now, that he wanted this, for tonight at least. That knowledge oddly enough, calmed me. 

I opened his belt with a minimum of awkward fumbling. I carefully slid down his zipper and he closed his eyes with a sharp intake of breath. They flew open again, when I unceremoniously pushed his briefs out of the way and pulled his already hard cock out. The evidence of his arousal made my own trousers decidedly tighter. I had seen Illa naked before, as he had seen me. I had even touched him _there_ , when I inspected a knife wound in his thigh and his package got in the way. My hands had shaken then, but from adrenalin and worry and not arousal. This time, I was free to look. I had imagined the sight far too often over the last months.

I made sure to look at him as I grabbed the base of his cock with one hand and licked my lips. When I put down my head to suck at the tip, Illya cursed softly in Russian. He tasted musky and bitter and salty and so _Illya_ , I could not contain a groan of satisfaction of my own. I closed my eyes then and drew him from my mouth again. Instead I began licking him along the vein on the underside of his cock. I lapped at him with wide strokes of my tongue and he began rocking his hips, before he caught himself and held absolutely still again. I teased his crown again, before pulling back for a moment. Ilya watched my wide eyed and was panting heavily. The sight send a shiver through me. My trousers had become unbearably tight and I surreptitiously opened my fly and drew out my own erection. I moaned, when I felt the cool air against my straining cock. I did not dare speak, but instead lowered my head again. I licked at the sensitive skin of Illya’s scrotum and then drew his balls in my mouth one after the other. His hips had begun to buck again and this time he did not seem to be able to make himself stop. The sounds he made were encouraging, but were getting more and more frustrated.

So, I drew him fully in my mouth again until my lips touched the fingers around his base. I began with gentle sucks and a slow pace. Once Illya started cursing again, roughly this time, I speed up and tried to take him as deep as I could. I felt every vein, every ridge as my head moved up and down on his shaft. His sounds were coming more desperately now and so I gently grabbed his heavy balls und rolled them in my hand. It felt so wonderful, that I could only groan again. He bucked so hard, his hips almost came off the bed. I struggled to keep from choking and opened my eyes to watch him. The look on his face almost made my heart leap out of my chest. There was lust and wonder in his eyes. He was not holding back and even there on my knees, I wondered, how many people had ever gotten to see him like this. There was nothing of his usual reserve left, his eyes were unguarded. The knowledge, that I was doing this to him, made me feel light-headed. The knowledge, that he allowed me to do this to him, went straight to my cock. I was ready to come, just from sucking him. It would have been embarrassing, had I been able to think straight.

Illya reverently touched my neck and when I realised he was feeling his own cock inside my throat, I made an embarrassing sound. The vibrations from that seemed to push him over the edge, because suddenly Illya was trying to warn me: “ _U menya_ … _I’m going to_ …”.

I did not pull off, but instead tried to suck him even deeper. I gently pulled at his balls with my free hand and moments later felt his cock harden even more inside my swollen mouth. Then I _was_ choking and trying to swallow at the same time. I fumbled at my own cock in blind desperation and was coming before Illya had expelled the last of his seed. I cried out silently and pressed my face into his thigh. After a moment my vision came back. I sat back and dared to look at him again. He was lying flat on his back and panting heavily. When he felt me draw back, he sat up and drew me up beside him, with a strength that belied his smaller body, but that I had come to rely on.

Looking at the ceiling again, he gasped: “That was wonderful. Thank you”.

It was with difficulty that I was able to hold back a snort. My partner really had an uncanny knack for understatements. I could hardly remember the last time, I had come so hard. And I was the one on my knees and doing the sucking, as it were. I had hardly even touched myself. Sex, even just oral sex with the man next to me, was all that I had fantasied about and more.

Illya took a while to get his breath back- When his breathing had slowed down, he turned his head to me and asked in a carefully controlled voice: “That was not about a game, was it?”.

That was the question, wasn’t it? I knew, that I could still play this off as no big deal. Just a man who normally enjoyed the ladies, but saw a chance and took it. Drunken curiosity even, if we both ignored that I had only had two glasses. However, that was not what I wanted. I was sure, the tension between Illya and me, had not been just my imagination. Whether it was just sexual or if there was more to it, I had never been sure. There had been times, when I had been on the brink of calling him out. I never had and was left wondering. But I could not take this anymore. And however hard I tried to quench the little voice in the back of my head, that whispered hope, I could not do it.

I let out a deep breath. Time to face the music.

“No, that wasn’t about the bet… That was letting you know about my widely inappropriate feelings for you”.

His hand on my back stilled and I could see his heart skip into a faster rhythm by the way his pulse jumped at his neck.

“Do you mind?”, I asked hesitantly and held my breath.

His answer would decide if I had just destroyed the most important relationship in my life.

He turned to me and the guarded happiness on his normally so stoic face, took my breath away: “I do not mind, not at all. In fact, it means that the widely inappropriate feelings I have for you, might not be so inappropriate”.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really trying to improve my writing. Any constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. First time writing bedroom scene.


End file.
